Page 3 of Coming Home for Fall 2
At least for the time being.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while. Things have been pretty chaotic in Chicago. I haven’t been great about keeping up with anyone. I haven’t spoken to Ariel in probably close to a month.” She mentioned Ariel since there was a time in Mallory’s life that she and her sister texted or talked on the phone nearly every single day. Things had changed a lot once Ariel had her third kid, however, and there had been a few sisterly arguments over the years that left their relationship a little more timid that Mallory would’ve liked.
“Well, you’ll see her at Thanksgiving,” her mom said. “Taylor too. I’m going to make sure everyone's here for the holiday this year.” She hit the ‘brew’ button on the coffee maker and turned back to face her daughter. “I assume you’ll be staying here through the end of the month at least?”
“Uh, yeah… If that’s okay.”
“You know you’re always welcome to stay here, for as long as you’d like.” Callie raised a brow.
“But if I’m not mistaken, there were at least three overly stuffed bags in the entryway, so unless you brought us all presents from Chicago, I have a feeling you were actually planning to stay for longer than a couple of weeks… No?”
“Originally, yes.” Mallory sighed and let her head fall back for a moment. Her neck was killing her. “But that was before I knew you had another house guest. Two, actually.”
“There’s plenty of room,” Callie said. “So don’t worry about that.” She approached the island, face scrunched up with concern. “Honey, what happened? Is everything okay?”
“Define okay.”
“Did you get fired again?”
The defeated tone of her mom’s voice made Mallory feel like she was going to cry. She fought back the tears, however, and cleared her throat before speaking. “It’s a long story. I don’t really feel like getting into it right now, but the gist is that things didn’t work out. And in a city like Chicago, where I was already living paycheck to paycheck, not having a job pretty much guarantees that you’re going to lose your apartment. So, I decided to come back here while I figure out my next move.” She hated the fact that these words sounded rehearsed. It wasn’t that she had gone over them in her head beforehand or anything, it’s just that she’d said them multiple times in the past. This was the third—or maybe fourth—time she’d returned home after failing to get her life together, and now she was pushing forty.
Pathetic.
“I’m sorry to hear that things didn’t work out.” Her mom patted her hand lovingly, probably knowing on some level what was going through Mallory’s head just then. “I thought you were really enjoying that job. You kept it for a long time.”
By Mallory’s standards, this was true. She’d held down her previous job for longer than any that came before it, but to say she was ‘enjoying’ the work was a major exaggeration. The work, up until recently, hadn’t been completely and entirely soul sucking, which was the bar Mallory had set for herself when she first moved to Chicago.
“Like I said… It’s a long story.”
“Right, I understand,” her mom said. “And anyway, I’m glad you’re home.”
Mallory felt a weak smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She knew her parents weren’t judgy people, and that they would always support her no matter what. She just wished she didn’t need so much help from them. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she figure things out on her own for a change?
“I’m not going to stay that long,” she said, mostly to herself. “It would be nice to spend the holidays here, so that I’m not alone in some new city, but after Christmas, I’m going to be leaving. I swear. I won’t allow myself to get too comfortable here and waste a lot of time.”
Callie smiled. “Sure, sweetie. Whatever you feel is right. Your father’s going to be so excited to see you.” She turned back to the coffee machine and retrieved a couple mugs from the shelf above the sink. “Now, remind me how you take it?”
“Black,” Mallory said. “And bleak.”
Just like my future.
But no, she couldn’t let herself think like that. She needed to hang onto hope that things were going to get better, hope that she was capable of turning her life around. It was possible, wasn’t it? This time, she would lean on her parents only as much as she absolutely had to, and in two months time, she was going to be on to bigger and better things.
I have to be.
Chapter 2
Mallory sipped her coffee sullenly as her mom went to finish getting ready for the day. She’d heard the sound of muffled voices coming from upstairs, but neither of them were deep enough to be her father’s. He was likely still in his meeting, but she hoped he would be done soon. She needed to ask him more questions about this mystery guest. Even if he didn’t have all the answers she was looking for, she was fairly certain he would share some of her concerns.
She got up to pour herself a second cup when her mother and Sasha came into the kitchen, both looking very nervous for some reason. Mallory frowned at them as she poured the coffee. “Is… everything alright?”
“Uh—well—”
“I stole your room,” Sasha blurted out like a kid admitting to staying up past her bedtime. Her dirty blond hair covered her face as she looked away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be coming home to stay, otherwise I would’ve insisted that I sleep somewhere else. It was never my intention to take someone else’s room.”
“It was the most comfortable option,” Callie explained. “And it was big enough for her and Dot to stay in without being too cramped. We didn’t know you were going to be returning home before Thanksgiving, so we had her move in there for at least the first month, and then we were going to figure something else out when everyone arrived for the holiday.”
“Oh.” Mallory put the pot of coffee back in its place and swallowed a burning sip just to give herself a moment to think. She made a face as the hot liquid crawled down her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. “That’s okay,” she choked out a second later. “I understand. That makes the most sense, and it’s not like I told anyone I was coming, so… yeah. It’s fine. It’s really not fair of me to claim it as ‘my room’ anyway.”
